Final Moments
by ReggieBlack
Summary: The final moments of Regulus Arcturus Black are revealed as he sinks through the lake.


'I'm dying ...' Regulus Black thought as he sank through the water, cold, lifeless hands dragging him down. 'This is it. The end.' As the life and light drained from his eyes, his final thoughts turned to what had just occurred, and despite deaths's cold embrace drawing ever nearer, he smiled, what he had just done would make a difference. He knew it. And when had a Black ever been wrong? Regulus knew the answer to that, but the lessons his father had drummed into him took over. 'Never' he though. 'A Black is always right'.

Flashback. Sailing across the lake he was now being dragged into, his loyal house-elf, Kreacher, beside him, a golden locket clutched in the house-elf's wizened hand. The boat bumping into an island in the center of the lake. Regulus, clambering out, before grabbing Kreacher, and carrying him onto the island.

Kreacher lead Regulus to the basin, in which lay the locket, identical, but far more significant, to the one clutched in Kreacher's hand. Upon seeing the potion in the basin, Kreacher groaned, and took a step back, before walking back towards it, casting a frightened glance at his master. But Regulus shook his head. 'You're not drinking it this time, Kreacher. I am.' And upon those words, he picked up a jagged shell lying on the basin, filled it to the brim, and drank.

Again, he filled it up, and drank, but this time, his mind started to wander. Voldemort stood before him, his wand pointed at Regulus's bare forearm, and _he_ muttered a harsh incantation, and a twisted black shape appeared on Regulus's forearm, and he moaned. 'I don't want it ... make it stop ... I'll do anything, please!'. Upom saying these words, he dropped the shell, but as Kreacher had been instructed, the old house-elf, took the shell himself, and forced the potion between Regulus's lips.

The vision changed, and it was Voldemort again. This vision had never really happened, only in Regulus's dreams, but here it seemed vivid as reality. But with Voldemort was a man. A man who looked a lot like Regulus. But it wasn't him. It was his older brother, Sirius, and he was kneeling, as if bound by invisible chains. Voldemort had his wand pointed at Sirius's face, which Regulus then realised was blood-stained, Sirius's usual slick black hair matted with blood. Sirius's blood.

Regulus groaned loudly. 'Not Sirius ... please, not Sirius! Take me, but leave him. He doesn't deserve this, please!'. Kreacher shook his head, hating to see his master, his favourite, like this. 'Sirius is not here, Master Regulus' he croaked. 'It is just Kreacher and Master'. He forced another mouthful down Regulus's throat.

Voldemort started to circle Sirius. 'You have not been a worthy pure-blood, Black', he said, in what Regulus recognise to be his snake-like hiss, reserved especially for moments of extreme anger. 'And now it's time for you to suffer. This is a torture you will not survive. CRUCIO!'.

Regulus cried out, as if the pain were his own. 'No! Not Sirius ... not Sirius. Me, not him. He's pure, I'm unworthy, now take me!' Kreacher groaned, loathing this, but ancient magic bound him, and he forced a fifth mouthful through Regulus's shaking mouth.

Regulus gulped it down eagerly, but shaked horrifically, reality, the visions and his thoughts blending into one, and he fell to his knees, gibbering nonsense, and Kreacher forced the last mouthful through Regulus's mouth. The basin was empty.

'The potion, Master Regulus' Kreacher croaked, as he dropped the replice locket into the now empty basin, scooping up the original. But Regulus shook his head, siezing the replica and prising it open, before fumbling for a small piece of parchment, and pressing it in, before sealing the locket again.

_To the Dark Lord,_

_I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can._

_I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more._

_R.A.B._

Kreacher took the locket from Regulus, and dropped it into the basin again, and knowing his master was weak, reached into Regulus's pocket, taking a vial of green potion, and pouring it into the basin.

Unexpectedly, Regulus spoke ... well, whispered, really. 'Go, Kreacher' he whispered hoarsely. 'Destroy the locket'. Regulus could have sworn he saw a tear in the house-elfs's face, before with a loud 'CRACK' he was gone. Now Regulus was alone, and he smiled faintly, crawling to the island's edge, and he began to drink.

'Water ...' he moaned, the cool drink bringing life back into him, just as the cold, lifeless hands reached up, grabbing Regulus, and pulling him into the lake. Regulus went without a fight. And in his final moments, a single word flashed through his mind. Sirius.


End file.
